


Circle Cut

by kingcael



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: :(, Broken Bones, Emetophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 02:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10912203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingcael/pseuds/kingcael
Summary: It was foolish to fall in love with the sun.But Ignis was aware of that much.A hunt gone wrong, and someone doesn't come home.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Ignis had just finished cleaning out the caravan, taking care to scrub every surface. It was one of the things he found some solace in when the others were out. His own research had hit a wall, and he was waiting rather impatiently for Cor to return with documents about the Royal Tombs from Insomnia. 

 

Prompto had gone out with Gladio and Iris, on a mission to get Talcott some training, leaving Ignis virtually friendless in Hammerhead, with Cindy away too. Iris was a force to be reckoned with now, especially since her training had multiplied exponentially since the darkness began. There really was no better teacher for Talcott now. 

 

The telltale rumble of Iris’ truck announced their return, and Ignis couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps it was silly, but he really felt his spirits lift knowing that soon Prompto would be back in his arms. Even covered in sweat and daemon blood, Prompto’s scent was something Ignis craved. And his melodic laugh, soft words, and that cheerful clumsiness that Ignis hoped he’d never grow out of.

 

Ignis rushed out of the caravan, with more enthusiasm than he usually allowed, banging the door against the side as he descended the two steps. He hurried to the gate, following the sound of the truck. 

 

The motor stopped, and the familiar creaks of the doors told him that soon Prompto would be hugging him around the middle and maybe babbling about some weird new mushroom he found. He could almost feel their first reunited kiss, rough with stubble from the four days out.  

 

“Welcome back, everyone,” Ignis said softly, smiling in the direction of the truck. He heard Iris gasp slightly, and Gladio gusted out a breath. “I trust everything went well?”

 

“Iggy…” Gladio began, taking a step forward. Ignis wrinkled his nose, tilting his head with a smile.

 

“Goodness, Gladio. You smell almost as bad as Prompto must.” Ignis held his hands out, expecting a laugh and a mock-pout from Prompto as they finally embraced. But Prompto’s sweet musical laugh never came, and there was something about the odd silence from everyone else. “Prom… Prompto?” Ignis asked uncertainly, his hands falling back to his sides. If this was some kind of joke, it was in bad taste. Ignis blinked, hoping his sight might miraculously return so he could look for Prompto properly. “Wh-where are you, love? Prom?”

 

Iris began to cry, and that was answer enough. 

 

Ignis didn’t need the details, at least not right now, and he turned on his heel, overestimating the rotation and heading off in an odd direction. He sensed someone saying his name, but he couldn’t hear or reply over the rushing sound in his ears. Eventually, he ran into the chain link fence, stumbling back into Gladio’s broad chest. For a moment, Ignis leaned against him, listening to his heartbeat and breathing in the scent of days of battle. It was a scent that wasn’t particularly pleasant, but still brought him peace. The scent of hard-earned life. That smell on Prompto’s skin was his favourite, but now…

 

Ignis felt the rumble of Gladio speaking more than he heard it, and his arms wrapped around him. Until he was stilled by Gladio’s strong arms, Ignis hadn’t realised how much he was shaking. 

 

“I’m sorry…” Gladio said, over and over. “I’m sorry, Iggy. I lost him. We looked, I promise we looked… I’m sorry.” Gladio’s voice was rough with emotion, and Ignis imagined he must be crying, though his own eyes were still dry. “We found this…” Gladio pushed something soft into Ignis’ hands, and it only took a moment for him to identify it as the bandana Prompto wore on his arm. It was torn- cut, and the knot remained. It was still there. The piece of Ignis’ old glasses that Prompto had bent into a ring. Prompto tied it into his bandana, as his promise. His promise that someday they’d live happily in the sun again. An engagement ring, of sorts. 

 

Ignis trembled, bringing the bandana to his lips. It smelled like Prompto, no doubt he used it to mop up minor injuries, and sweat all over it besides. The fabric was softer now than ever, after years of being used. 

 

Perhaps it was better this way? He could only remember Prompto’s living body, warm and soft and covered in little raised scars. Freckles that danced on his skin, but only in Ignis’ memory, and that sparkling laugh. Prompto had dreamed of the sun coming up, of dancing in a brightly lit kitchen in some fanciful future, his breathy laugh against Ignis’ neck as they swayed together in their dingy caravan. In a way, Ignis was happy, even with their short time together between hunts and missions and jobs and keeping the lights on for the people. 

Ignis couldn’t see those lights, but somehow the world felt darker again. Gladio guided Ignis back to the caravan, holding him firmly by the elbow until he was inside. 

 

“I’ll… I’ll be back in a bit,” Gladio said, clapping Ignis on the shoulder and leaving his hand there a moment. 

 

Ignis took two steps before he ran into the counter, his mind too preoccupied to remember his internal map. The caravan felt unnaturally quiet, and Ignis steadied himself against the counter as he tried to catch his breath. He still held Prompto’s bandana, finding no comfort from it.

 

Losing someone so close… he hadn’t felt this kind of pain in years. His uncle was lost in the city, and that wound had stung, but he forced it closed for Noctis’ sake. Noctis himself, lost, but not dead. That assurance was at his fingertips in an instant, and, as he thought about it, his daggers materialised in his hands. Proof that Noctis was still alive. 

 

But losing Prompto… there was no magic charm to bring him relief from that. Not even his bandana with his ring still attached.

 

Ignis banished the blades, clenching the countertop until it creaked under his touch. His legs shook, and he slowly lowered himself down, gripping the edge of the counter. Deep, irregular breaths. Something hot stinging his right eye. He wondered if Noctis could feel the loss, wherever he was, like the sun had gone out again. He had no doubt that Gladio would be back before long, probably worried Ignis might do something foolish in his grief. 

 

As it was, Ignis simply knelt on the floor, facing the painted wood below the small sink, blinking tears down his cheek, but otherwise silent. Slowly, Ignis trailed his hands down the side of the counter, and clasped the bandana in his lap. He bowed his head, and rested his forehead against the counter, blood pounding in his ears and he reeled, deafened for a moment as he desperately tried to remember the sound of Prompto’s laugh. 

 

He wondered if he might encounter a daemon with a laugh like that. 

 

At that thought, Ignis whimpered out a breathy noise, hiding his face in his hands with the bandana touching his cheek and catching his tears. The thoughts kept rushing into his mind, of some terrible twisted creature, gasping and choking and calling his name. Tainting his golden memories with Prompto’s dead voice speaking, staining that perfect sound with starscourge. Gurgling out empty phrases and death wishes, like Ravus had, only this would be met with despair and horror instead of pity and disgust. The daemon might even have beautiful blue eyes, and Ignis would never know it.

 

Ignis would try to kill Prompto’s daemon, but he wasn’t certain he would try to defend himself. 

 

Trembling, he gripped his face, pressing his fingernails into his forehead. Of course he would. For Noctis. Those daggers were a gift, and he owed Noctis his life. But he had given it to Prompto, even against his own doctrines and remarkable self-restraint. 

 

With every kiss, and every embrace after a long time apart, Ignis had given himself fully to Prompto in Noctis’ absence. It was foolish. He knew it was foolish. And still, he had chosen Prompto over his duty. Perhaps it was more foolish to allow himself to love another when the darkness so easily swept people away. Ignis looked to Prompto for support, more than anyone else, since Prompto was the only one who was never clumsy or inconsiderate with his feelings. Dear, sweet Prompto, still managing to shine his bright light even amidst all the shadows and doubt and fear. 

 

More than once, Ignis tore himself out of a nightmare with a shout and fist, only to find Prompto’s soft embrace and softer words. His scent, a matured musk, and just the barest hint of that lemon soap. Occasionally his breath would smell of those heart-shaped red candies that he loved, but were in short supply since the darkness began. 

 

Sometimes, Prompto would even hum or sing, some little made up tune laden with food-themed pet names, and Ignis would often fall asleep without speaking, not wanting his words to interrupt. 

 

Ignis stood suddenly, and wobbled back to their makeshift bedroom, running his hand over the freshly laundered bedspread. It was supposed to be a treat for Prompto. He always complained about dirty sheets, and how much better a clean bed felt, especially when they smelled a bit of bleach. Ignis had even found some bleach, thanks to Cindy, and it was…

 

It was going to be a perfect night. 

 

Taking a stilted breath, Ignis bent down to the laundry basket, praying he was less than thorough with it. Empty. He knelt then, and ran his hands along the floor, around the perimeter of the bed and the nearby cupboards. There had to be… he didn’t notice it as he did laundry earlier...

 

His hand brushed against something soft, and Ignis grabbed it, recognising the worn softness of Prompto’s sleep shirt. With a relieved tearful laugh, Ignis brought the fabric to his face, breathing in the smell. He savoured it, and curled in on himself, hugging the shirt to himself like an empty person. He slumped to the side, leaning against the bed. 

 

The loneliness was already strange, like the feeling of wrongness every time he blinked and it was still dark. He kept waiting for Prompto to call his name, for him to chuckle, and hug him from behind as was his custom, nuzzling between Ignis’ shoulderblades. 

 

There was a song Prompto would sing, he loved it, even if it was a bit cliched. It would get stuck in Ignis’ head for weeks, especially when they were apart for hunts or other business. Prompto would sing it at least once whenever they were reunited, coaxing out a rare grin from Ignis. 

 

But now, hearing that twinkling tune in his head was akin to torture. 

 

“... _ please… please don’t take my sunshine away _ …” 

  
  
  
  


o-o-o-o-o-o

 

Prompto opened his eyes four times before he felt he could stay awake, and the darkness was the same each time. There was a pulsing light in the trees about twenty feet away, and he squinted at it, wondering if the sun was nervously perched on the horizon.

 

He moved a fraction, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Pain cracked through his head, like the sudden blazing impact of a Thundara. Prompto gasped, and also wished he hadn’t done that. His teeth ground together where they ought not to be, and blood was curdled on his tongue, like a mouthful of honey. Honey covered with bees, maybe. The bees were buzzing in his skull, stinging behind his left eye. 

 

It wasn’t unlike the sensation he felt in Zegnautus, with that man poking and prodding at him. How many needles had he used? Maybe everything after was a hallucination, and Prompto was finally waking up for real. He could almost hear that oily voice making him feel grimy with smirking words. 

 

Prompto could have cried, for the notion that everything was a dream. Certainly, he might have preferred a world in the sun, and the company of his best friend, but the thought of Ignis never speaking those sweet words… that it was all made up… it was too much.

 

Ignis… he’d be worried. Prompto began to sit up, fully intending to get his bearings and return to Hammerhead, to return to Ignis. The others would have returned, that was the rule. It was quiet, aside from the creaking shrieks of Iron Giants in the distance. 

 

A bone-shattering pain dropped him like a sledgehammer, and Prompto cried out, quickly silencing himself. Trembling, he brought his hands to his face, letting his right drop as it became apparent he had two broken fingers. He examined his face with his left hand, ghosting over the skin of his jawline and determining it to be broken, or at the very least, dislocated. Dimly, Prompto recalled this happening to Dave once, and Ignis had tied his head up with a bandage to keep it from moving. Coughing, Prompto reached for his bandana, wincing yet again when he jabbed his fingers into a large cut on his bicep. The bandana was gone too, along with his engagement ring. 

 

Prompto groaned, searching the ground for his bandana. If he was going to die here he at least wanted to hold his ring close. Barring that, maybe he could hallucinate that Ignis was here with him, speaking soothing words until the darkness took them. 

 

“Ig…” Prompto gurgled, holding his jaw and pushing a tooth out of his mouth with his tongue. It oozed down his chin, riding a slow slide of blood. He knew Ignis would know what to do about that, he always had an answer. “I- Ig… helllp…” Prompto slurred, sitting up. He found his could move a bit if he held his jaw up, though his teeth still grated together horribly. 

 

“Prom… darling…” 

 

Prompto turned on the spot, his eyes wide in the darkness. He heard it. He definitely heard Ignis’ voice. Unless some daemons could mimic speech now, nothing would surprise him anymore. Slowly, carefully, Prompto stood, shuddering with nausea. His head and stomach spun in opposite directions, and he stumbled to the side, until his shoulder came into contact with a stone wall. 

 

Fragments of memories crunched around him as he walked while steadying himself on the wall, grinding into sand with each step. Vaguely, he recalled something huge… and Talcott’s gun jamming… Iris’ eyes wide, with a splatter of blood across her face… Gladio shouting something…

 

It was no good, the rest of it was gone. Prompto stopped, wondering what day it was. They had left on the thirteenth, and were out three days before whatever happened. After a bit of shuffling, Prompto reached into his right hand pocket with his left hand, retrieving his phone. 

 

The battery was nearly spent, flashing red at 5%. Prompto blinked at the display, wondering if the flashing light drained the battery faster. It took a moment for him to recall why he was looking at his phone in the first place, and he held it closer to his face, realising that one of his contact lenses had been knocked out. 

 

It was the eighteenth now, 11:26 am, clear sky, according to the weather app. It was still surreal, being in the complete darkness when the time and weather indicated it should be a beautiful morning. Prompto blinked, closing the eye without the contact, and swiped the code to open his phone. The closest thing he could get to a heart shape on the lock grid. Ignis could even do it once Prompto showed him.

 

The minimal light from the phone was dizzying, and Prompto slowly tapped the contact photo to speed-dial Ignis. It was a photo he had taken shortly after they had left Insomnia, so many years ago. Prompto had just made Ignis laugh heartily, and took the picture as Ignis smiled right at him, the hard laughter condensed into a perfect shy smile. As far as he knew, Ignis never knew that was his contact photo, and probably still didn’t. 

 

The phone rang twice before Ignis answered it. His voice seemed far away, Prompto had to strain to hear him. 

 

“Prom? Prom, darling. Is it you? Are you alright? Where-”

 

Prompto wanted so badly to speak, to answer even one of the questions, but all he could manage was a choked cry. Nausea kicked him in the chest, and he dropped his phone, falling to his knees and vomiting what felt like most of his internal organs and several teeth. He was sure he looked completely broken, from the agonizing slide and crunch of his jaw as he vomited. By some miracle, he had mostly avoided his phone, and lay down next to it, straining to pick out the thread of Ignis’ voice amidst everything else. 

 

“Darling, darling, are you alright? Talk to me, Prom. Tell me where you are. Coordinates.”

 

“Hurrrhh, uhhh,” Prompto groaned, pressing the screen of his phone into his face, staring at the picture of Ignis’ smile. “I… lovvv-”

 

“Prompto!” Ignis’ voice was rising, fear making him stern. “Coordinates!”

 

Prompto replied but he didn’t know what he said, and Ignis’ voice was the same. Sound, but no meaning behind it. 

 

“Lovvvv…” Prompto droned again, holding his jaw to keep it from moving. He could manage to spit out a few sounds, sliding his phone closer to his face. Somewhere way back behind his eyes, Prompto wanted to scream, to dexterously swipe to the GPS app and find the coordinates. If he could just do that, then his handsome prince would come save him. As it was, Prompto couldn’t move, and the mud beneath him was soft. He wondered if he laid here long enough, if the ground would swallow him up before he could become a daemon. At that thought, Prompto gasped, his heart pounding. He didn’t want to be a daemon. Out here where no one would ever find him, unless it was to kill him during some botched training mission. Tears spilled from his eyes, and he leaned over his phone with a new energy. 

 

With a slow, shaking hand, Prompto found the map, grimacing at the blood he smudged across the screen. Two percent left. Carefully, he dropped a pin to his location and sent a text to Ignis, terrified that he was too far out, or too late, and he’d die and become the daemon that killed Ignis. 

 

“‘M scaaaared, Ig…” Prompto said, still firmly holding his face. “I don… wanna die.”

 

“Love, try to stay awake. We are already on the way. Stay awake. I’ll be--”

 

Prompto didn’t hear the rest of what Ignis was saying, either he or his phone blacked out. Maybe both.


	2. Chapter 2

Ignis jumped at the sound of the caravan door opening, and hastily got up, shaking off the stiffness in his limbs. He slowly moved to sit on the edge of the bed, facing away from the door. He still held Prompto’s soft shirt, clutched to his chest like a security blanket.

“Ignis?” Iris’ voice, timid and inquisitive. “Gladdy sent me... um, I mean…”

Iris’ voice reminded Ignis forcefully of Prompto’s manner of speaking whenever he was uncertain. A twisting pain seized his heart, and he visibly winced. 

“Iris,” Ignis said quietly, his voice hoarse before he cleared his throat. “Did you need something?”

“I just… I’m sorry-”

“Don’t,” Ignis said, sharper than he meant. He took a breath, lowering his lips to the shirt as he collected himself. “Apologies. Please, I am… I am…” Whatever he thought he was, the words wouldn’t come, and Ignis looked away from where he assumed Iris was standing. 

He heard the sounds of Iris’ gulping breaths, and her careful footsteps as she approached. She paused, probably waiting to see if he would tell her to leave. When he didn’t, she rushed to his side and hugged him, with the smallest cry that made Ignis realise that Iris too had lost a friend. 

“I’m so sorry!” she cried, her hug desperate to bring him comfort, her arms changed position rapidly, almost frantic, and the depth of her pain was obvious. “I’m sorry, Ignis. It was all my fault, and-”

Ignis shifted, finding her shoulders and halting her movements. “Hush…” he said, barely more than a whisper. “It’s not your fault.” As much as Ignis desired to rage and roar and find someone to blame, if only to place some guilt on an unfair death, he certainly couldn’t do that to Iris. 

“I messed up!” Iris insisted, her voice wobbly. “I messed up and he saved me and then it- the daemon-”

Ignis licked his lips, and shook his head, not sure if he wanted to hear more or not.

“The daemon grabbed him and- and it just  _ threw _ him!” Iris dropped her head to Ignis’ chest, and cried. “We couldn’t- I didn’t- he, he screamed and then the sound stopped and we couldn’t- we couldn’t find him!”

Ignis shook his head, squeezing Iris’ shoulders and taking a moment to compose himself. “Iris. Do not shoulder the blame for this. It will only tear you apart. Prom- Prompto wouldn’t want that.”

Iris raised her head, bumping against Ignis’ chin. She made a few gulping sounds, and Ignis detected the shuffling sounds that she must be nodding and wiping her face. She gasped a bit, from something other than the pain in her heart, if he had to guess.

“You’re hurt,” Ignis said, more a statement than a question. 

“Ah, I- yeah…” she murmured.

“Where?” Ignis asked, running his hands down her arms, and then back up to her neck, trailing gently over the sides of her face until his thumbs brushed against the edge of bandages and the copper tackiness of dried blood. Carefully, Ignis examined her face, following a jagged line of bandages across both her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. “Broken?”

“Gladdy put it back into place,” Iris said, trying not to move as Ignis’ hands hovered over her face. “It- it’ll heal.”

“You need stitches,” Ignis said, feeling the gape of a deep cut. “Bring me the kit.”

“It’s okay, Gladdy and Talcott patched me up okay.”

Ignis blinked a few times, and let his hands drop back into his lap. He was certain she had a reasoning behind declining stitches. She wanted it to hurt. To be a reminder. For her to be reminded of her perceived failure every time she looked in the mirror. Iris was already planning ways to remember Prompto. Ignis debated on calling her on it, but the notion of it tumbled out of his mind as he remembered. 

Prompto’s absence wasn’t something solid in his mind yet, and the reality of it crashed around Ignis again. 

Gone. Snuffed out like every other light in this darkness. Gone, lost somewhere, lost where Ignis couldn’t hold him. No way to stop him from becoming a daemon. Sweet, sunshine Prompto. Gone. Gone.

Ignis trembled, and lowered his head, the feeling like a slow punch to the gut. His breath came in starts and stops, never seeming to catch. He was dimly aware of Iris speaking, but her words were lost in the sound of stars going out in his mind. 

“-shh, calm down, okay?” 

Ignis complied instantly, desperate for some order to follow amidst the chaos thundering in his head. Iris’ hands were cold, and she smelled terrible. Her voice was soft, and the way she stroked his hair was tender. Her manner of comfort was so similar to Prompto’s, even down to the way she spoke. 

“I’ll be here, okay?”

“Get that injury looked after,” Ignis said, his voice sounding far away and hollow. If Iris didn’t speak it was almost as if Prompto had returned. “It… it won’t do to get an infection.”

“I don’t want to leave you--”

“Please,” Ignis gasped, turning his head away. “Let me… let me be alone for a moment.”

Iris released him slowly, letting her hands run down his arms before giving his hands a quick squeeze. “I’m sor- I mean… We… we’re all here for you, if you need, okay?”

Ignis managed a brief nod, holding his breath until she left. When he finally breathed again, a low sob chased the air through his lips, and he shakily lay down. After a moment, he realised he was lying down on Prompto’s side of the bed. He shook, and covered his face with Prompto’s shirt, wondering when his heart stopped beating. 

Ignis had seen Prompto fall many times in battle, particularly at the beginning of the journey. He knew the way Prompto’s voice sounded before he fell unconscious, the way his skinny limbs would hit the ground, and the colour of his golden hair smeared with blood. Once, his eyes were open after he had fallen, glassy and bright, but only on the surface as the Phoenix Down glowed in his broken hands, enveloped in Ignis’ own as he frantically sparked the feather.

The fear that struck Ignis’ heart then was what made him realise he loved Prompto. 

The feeling now was no different.

Loss without love was easy.

When Ignis awoke the next morning, there was a brief moment of blissful ignorance, where he felt something soft pressed into his back. The sheets smelled slightly of bleach, a treat for Prompto. He must still be snoozing, with his back pressed against Ignis’ side. Though he wasn’t snoring like he usually did in the morning. 

Before Ignis’ hand dropped to the pillow he had placed to fill the empty space beside him, he remembered. 

The thought washed over him like nausea, and he stifled a cry, curling in on himself. 

Last night, he had lain awake for hours, holding Prompto’s shirt and bandana, his thoughts whirling and storming, until the emptiness beside him became too much. Slowly, methodically, he arranged Prompto’s pillows to fill the space where he slept, and only then did he drift off, blessedly undisturbed.

It had never felt as quiet, or as dark.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

Prompto startled awake, opening his eyes to the darkness. There was a weight on his back, and he coughed, making whatever it was tumble off of him. Groggily, Prompto raised his head, already sick with pain. 

The cackling shriek of one of those imp daemons brought him fully to his senses, and he drew his gun from midair, using the bright blue light as a light source to aim. One shot was all it took, and the imp dissolved into thin air. His hand kicked back horribly from firing, there wasn’t enough strength in him to fire again. At least there was only one imp, though the sound was loud enough to lure more over. 

Gasping, Prompto pushed himself up with his left arm, scooting into a half-sitting position beside the husk of an old car. Exoskeleton. Rusty bug. Icky.

White spots snapped in front of him audibly, and he held his jaw as he watched them, glad of the light source. If he could hear anything other than the lights, he’d do his best to assess the situation, like Ignis always did. One time, they had both taken a beating, and Ignis was trying to shake off the ringing in his ears, and stumbled around like he had in that swamp. Prompto hadn’t realised how important being able to hear was until then. Maybe that was why Ignis often hushed him from his absent-minded humming when they were out on a hunt. 

Dimly, Prompto recalled a conversation with Ignis, on the phone, in person? He couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was a dream. He did remember saying ‘I love you’ and that seemed most important.

As the white spots subsided just a bit, the creaks of an Iron Giant filled the air. Prompto squinted, closing the eye without the contact lens, trying to discern the direction the sound was coming from. There was also the sound of clashing steel, like metal teeth on aluminum foil. It grated in his head the same way, and Prompto wanted nothing more than temporary deafness, just so he wouldn’t have to feel that sound anymore. 

A different sound.

A shout.

His name? Something like that, anyway. His barcode number? Someone was asking for something. Identification? 

“N… H… one- um… one-nine-eight-sevennnn…” Prompto slurred, speaking as best he could with his jaw in the wrong spot. Sudden flashes of broken MT faces flashed in his mind, and he wondered if his face was bent metal too. “Zero,” Prompto coughed, and the voice kept shouting. It sounded familiar, but maybe it was just those Iron Giants learning to speak. Prompto laughed -the sound a little crazed- at the thought of Iron Giants learning to spell, squeezed into elementary school desks and scrawling beginner letters. That horrible Chancellor would be their teacher and-

“--are you?”

What… are you? 

“Zero!” Prompto called, a bit louder, wincing and holding down his bones. “Zero! Six…” he coughed, recalling the little song he had made with those numbers when he was young. When he was alone, he would take the wristband off sometimes, and traced over the slightly raised ink. He used to pretend the lines were piano keys, and made lyrics of the letters and numbers.

With those memories in mind, Prompto sang instead, for the last of it. “Oh-two-oh-four~”

“Prompto!” 

Wait.

That voice.

Not an imp, or an Iron Giant in remedial classes. 

“Prom, darling,” the voice called again, and Prompto could hear the desperation. The same tone of voice as that frightening first night after Noct disappeared. “Keep talking, darling. I’ll find you.”

“Ignisss…” Prompto said, drooling a bit down his chin. He felt the coldness of unconsciousness getting a stronger grip every time he spoke. There was a flashlight in the dark, though he knew only he could see that light. “Here… I’m here.”

The light turned fully in his direction, and Prompto squinted against it, shielding his eyes. 

“Darling… a bit more… move if you can’t speak,” Ignis said quietly, and Prompto blinked a few times as he realised Ignis was using his cane. He hadn’t used it in years. Ignis’ head was bowed too, and Prompto could tell he was listening carefully. 

Prompto hummed out a noise, as the light faded a bit. Maybe he was just imagining a nice dream for himself as he died. It would be so nice for his handsome knight to rescue him, maybe even ride away into the sunset in a white Regalia. Prompto wanted to laugh, his heart aching for the long drives when there still was such a thing as a sunset. 

Ignis’ hands touched him, and it was like the flint on a lighter, the way Prompto perked up. As always, Ignis was methodical, careful, not even speaking as he gently examined Prompto with his hands. That’s how he always was after they had been apart a long time. He found the broken fingers, only twinging them slightly, and recoiling when he did. He found the blood, and mud, and broken jaw. 

The sensation was lightning when Ignis tried to right it, and Prompto shuddered with nausea again. He was about to speak when he saw something glimmer in the tree above them. Another imp, maybe two. They were stealthy, not giggling and chirping like usual. 

Ignis murmured apologies and sweetness, shedding his jacket and laying it over Prompto, digging in his pocket for a curative. Prompto moaned lowly, trying to warn him of the imps, but Ignis held his jaw securely, not allowing him to strain it further. 

They crept closer, readying small tridents made of sticks or iron or something sharp anyway. Prompto moaned again, gesturing from under Ignis’ jacket. Ignis still paid him no mind, his movements becoming hasty as he searched all his pockets. 

“I was sure I-- I’m sorry, darling, please--”

The imps jumped in unison, and Prompto lurched forward, pushing Ignis aside and drawing his gun again in one fluid motion. 

He fired, blacking out before he even heard the sound.


	3. Loop

Ignis awoke with a start, sitting up as if he were emerging from underwater. He hadn’t even realised he had fallen asleep again. 

“Prom-” he began, before closing his mouth with a snap. Ignis sighed, feeling around the bed for Prompto’s shirt. He traced over the worn fabric, and brought it to his face again, his heartbeat settling with the scent. He turned his head, listening to the sound of fidgeting cloth at the open door to the bedroom. “Who’s there?”

“Um…” Iris spoke quietly; Ignis could hear her wringing her hands. “Um… I just wanted to let you know there’s soup for lunch, and Cor got here about an hour ago so...”

“Thank you, Iris,” Ignis said, lowering his forehead to his bent knee. “I will be there shortly.”

She lingered a moment, obviously dithering, and then left quickly, knocking into what sounded like the spice rack and fumbled to steady it.

After a moment, Ignis sat up straight, taking a restoring breath, and relaxing his face. It wouldn’t do to be out of sorts when there was work to be done. The darkness remained, darker now that Prompto was gone. Noctis would return and so would the sun, so Ignis needed to be ready. To be informative, to be useful to Noct when he returned. 

Ignis flinched, covering his mouth as he thought of telling Noctis. A physical pain twinged in his chest, imagining Noct’s face as he received the news, how his smile would fall, and the grim expression he would wear afterwards. Not that Ignis would know, he supposed. It was easier to grieve without seeing everyone’s looks of sorrow and pity.

Ignis stood slowly, hugging Prompto’s shirt close to himself once more before laying it carefully on the bed. He dressed, and it took him a few moments to find his sunglasses and phone, and, as an afterthought, he grabbed his cane and also tucked Prompto’s bandana in his front pocket, smoothing his clothes before exiting the caravan. 

The air was warm today, tinged with just a bit of moisture, suggesting it was about to rain. He would have frowned at the sky, if would make the slightest difference.  _ Pathetic fallacy _ . The individual words suited his mood, and he crossed to the diner, where already he could hear a hustle and bustle. He stepped carefully, tapping his cane, his pace slowed to avoid any new obstacles.

After dodging what seemed to be new crates of weaponry, Ignis made his way over to his usual seat in the diner, closest to the kitchen. Someone was listening to the radio, and there was a strange buzzing sound that mystified him for a moment until he recalled the noise. A tattoo machine; so that artist from Lestallum must be back in town. 

He ran his hand along the tabletop, searching for the carafe of coffee he could already smell. 

“Here,” Cor said, touching Ignis’ shoulder and setting down a mug of coffee in front of him. Ignis nodded appreciatively, and brought the coffee to his lips, his eyebrows raising when he realised-

“Ebony, yeah. It was a special request from someone when I went to Insomnia.”

Ignis didn’t even need to ask who that ‘someone’ was, and blinked away the sudden wetness in his eyes. The coffee was heavenly. The smallest, most bittersweet comfort. 

“I’ve got that book you wanted, too,” Cor said, sitting down opposite Ignis. Ignis had to admire how to the point Cor was, even though he was absolutely aware of the situation. More than anyone, Ignis felt Cor understood the need to keep ‘doing’ during a time of loss. They had no time to spare for the dead. Lingering with them only made it harder to keep living.

“Thank you,” Ignis said, holding the mug close to his face and trying not to imagine how different his morning should- could- would have been. Prompto would have likely crept away in the morning, tucking Ignis into bed securely, and returned with a mug of that perfect Ebony and whatever fruit he could scrounge up. Then they would lay together with their legs entwined as Prompto read the morning news or some poem he liked, and they began their day lazily. Ignis didn’t mind indulging in that once in awhile, and Prompto was all too eager to do so.

It was a time like that, a lazy morning, when Prompto had whispered those words.

“Marry me? When the sun comes up?”

It had surprised Ignis then, and he froze, his eyes widening as he felt Prompto’s lips on his neck, just below his ear. He took in a sharp breath, and rolled a bit, wishing with all his heart that he could see Prompto’s face, if only for a second. He trailed his hand up Prompto’s body, dancing over scars and freckles, and rested his palm against his cheek. 

“I would marry you today.”

At that, Prompto laughed, and rubbed their noses together. “When the sun comes up. Promise?”

“I promise.”

A hand dropped onto Ignis’ shoulder suddenly, and he jumped, nearly summoning his daggers in surprise. 

“Iggy, you okay?” Gladio said, softer than Ignis thought his voice could be. He must have joined them, and Ignis was so lost in his memories he didn’t even notice. Ignis was truly out of sorts, if Gladio of all people could sneak up on him.

“Ah, yes. Yes, apologies- I was… distracted,” Ignis shook his head, hastily taking a sip of coffee. “Cor. What were we-” Ignis paused, as he felt his phone in his pocket vibrating. “Excuse me,” he said, before realising what ringtone was playing. 

Ignis nearly dropped his phone in surprise, but scrambled to answer it, getting to his feet as he spoke. 

“Prom? Prom, darling. Is it you? Are you alright? Where-” Ignis all but shouted into the phone, his heart leaping into his throat and making it difficult to speak and breathe. This couldn’t be real. This had to be some intense fantasy his brain conjured up, and certainly he was being carted back into his caravan unconscious. His legs were weak and he stumbled, crashing his shoulder into the wall.

Gladio was beside Ignis in an instant, holding his arm as he swayed. Already questions were volleyed towards him, and Ignis strained to hear Prompto’s voice again. Over the speakers, all he could make out was the sound of Prompto being sick and a loud thump that could only be the phone hitting the ground. The static of the wind remained, and Ignis reeled, wondering if that was the last breath Prompto took. Returned in a tinny voice call, only to be snatched away in seconds.

“Darling, darling, are you alright? Talk to me, Prom,” Ignis could hear his voice crack, but supremely did not care. “Tell me where you are.” Gladio supplied his next query, and he repeated the word. “Coordinates.”

Ignis listened carefully, pressing the phone to his ear and plugging the other. Prompto’s breath was ragged, and irregular, and he made some throaty sounds, before something distinguishable as ‘I love’. At that, Ignis began to panic, that he would only get this affirmation that Prompto was alive for the moment, but no information to go  _ save _ him. “Prompto!” Ignis said, hoping to startle Prompto back into speaking. “Coordinates!”

“Myyy… Ig… srry… sorry,” Prompto mumbled. It almost sounded like he was being crushed, or at least had some sort of injury to his face. “Was… was gonna marry you.”

At that, Ignis felt tears sting his eyes, but ignored them, turning to face the wall and pressing his lips together. “Darling, I’m… yours.”

“Lovvvv…” Prompto droned, and Ignis trembled, aware of Gladio’s presence behind him, and likely the rest of the diner watching, if the silence was anything to go by. There was an agonising moment where Ignis could hear the phone being moved, or scuffled against, at least. Maybe daemons had discovered Prompto, and he had finally succumbed, his last word being a broken ‘love’.

After a second, Ignis felt his phone buzz, and the ping of a received text, with the addendum from the voice assistant announcing a ‘location pin added’ to his map. Gladio hissed in a deep breath, and his hand was steady on Ignis’ back. Ignis turned, and began walking across the diner, holding the phone to his ear, aware of Gladio brushing past him. 

“‘M scaaaared, Ig…” Prompto said, barely intelligible. “I don… wanna die.” 

Gladio had already started up Iris’ truck, and shouted out the window to the people at the gate for them to open it. Ignis only tripped once on his way to the truck, getting in and slamming the door behind him. 

“Love, try to stay awake. We are already on the way. Stay awake. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just- Prom?” Ignis listened intently, but the static was gone. He thought perhaps the roar of the truck was drowning it out, but--

“ _ Call ended _ ,” supplied the voice assistant, and Ignis held his phone out to Gladio, who took it.

“Out there? That far…?” Gladio growled, dropping the phone back in Ignis’ hands. “How the- augh, it doesn’t matter. Put your seatbelt on.”

It took nearly an hour to get to where the map point was, and Ignis tried calling Prompto twice more, giving up when it went straight to voicemail the second time. 

“Hey…” Gladio said, after a long silence. “I… uh…” He cleared his throat, before continuing. “I just wanted to say… you guys better have Cup Noodles at your wedding.”

At that, Ignis actually laughed, a strangled weak thing, but he nodded. “I suppose we must.”

Gladio clapped his hand on Ignis’ shoulder, and gave it a brief shake. “Let’s see that map again. Should be just through those trees?”

There was a sudden moaning creak, and Gladio scoffed, obviously rolling his eyes by the sound of his voice. “Really? Right now?” Ignis heard the crackling sparks of Gladio’s weapon being summoned, and tilted his head, listening for the Giant nearby.

“Think you can go on? He should be through the trees, about 200 metres,” Gladio said quietly. “It might be better if I make some distraction--”

A gunshot cleaved the air in two, nearly knocking Ignis down with surprise. He was well-studied in the sounds of Prompto’s gun, it was always a welcome companion at his side. 

“Prompto!” Ignis called, crashing through the trees toward the sound before Gladio could react. “Prom! Where are you?”

Gladio shouted back to him, barely audible through the sound of swords clashing. “Hurry up, go get him and let’s get the hell out of here!”

The undergrowth was difficult to navigate, but Ignis swatted down plants and bushes with his cane, calling out, afraid of what he might find. 

“Prompto! Where are you?”

There was something like a reply, a murmuring sound that seemed almost sing-song.

“Prompto! Prom, darling,” Ignis called again, pausing his steps to listen closely. “Keep talking, darling. I’ll find you.”

“Ignisss…Here… I’m here.”

Ignis gasped, and he turned towards the hissing voice, terrified that he had found a daemon, still using Prompto’s voice to speak and lure him closer. 

“Darling… a bit more… move if you can’t speak,” Ignis said quietly, taking a few steps forward, certain that Prompto had to be close. In a moment, he would feel soft hands and softer lips or strong fangs and stronger claws, and either would be a relief. 

Prompto didn’t speak, but instead hummed a little tune, and Ignis closed the last few steps and his cane tapped against the sole of Prompto’s boot. Ignis dropped his cane and followed it, falling to his knees and finding Prompto’s boot, running his hands up his legs, and body, and over his arms, finding broken fingers, and innumerable cuts besides. Slowly, Ignis examined Prompto’s face, ghosting his touch over his open mouth. Prompto’s jaw was clearly dislocated, though it didn’t seem to be broken. 

“Hold still,” Ignis breathed, clamping his hands over Prompto’s face and attempting to slide his jaw back into place. Prompto made a gasping noise at that, and Ignis relented immediately, apologizing over and over. 

“Darling, I’m sorry, don’t move.” Ignis trembled, feeling the chill in the air, and realised Prompto must be freezing, being out here injured and improperly dressed. He shrugged out of his coat, and draped it over Prompto’s chest, willing some warmth into him. “Just hold still, and I’ll use--” Ignis dug in his front pocket, for the Hi-Potion he always kept there for emergencies.

Prompto moaned lowly, and appeared to be trying to sit up. Ignis held him firmly with one hand, rifling through his pockets with the other. The Hi-Potion wasn’t there, neither was anything resembling it whatsoever. If only Noctis was here, he could lend some magic to a Cure spell. As it was, Ignis had to ransack his own jacket, triple-checking pockets and cursing himself.

“I was sure I-- I’m sorry, darling, please--” Ignis began, when Prompto suddenly pushed him aside, and a ringing gunshot darkened Ignis’ world. He reeled, lost a moment in deafness and blindness, holding on to Prompto for dear life as the world became an abyss. Prompto was too still, face down in the dirt, and Ignis allowed himself a moment of panic before composing himself and summoning his daggers, moving to a defensive position with his feet on either side of Prompto’s prone body. 

Ignis listened for anything else, knowing the drawing effect the gunshots had. There was a chattering laugh on the edges of his hearing, those horrible imps made that sound. Though it only sounded like one, not a horde like usual. One saving grace perhaps. 

Another sound, footsteps. Gladio crashing through the undergrowth with a roar, and the chattering laugh ceased suddenly. Relieved, Ignis relaxed his stance a bit, returning to his previous task. 

“A Potion… Gladio, do you-” Ignis’ question was cut short as Gladio shoved a Potion into his hand. Gingerly, Ignis turned Prompto over, finding the unnatural curves of his jaw and broke the Potion over him, grimacing at the sucking crunch the bones made as they mended. It would still take days for him to heal properly, but at least his bones were back where they belonged. He leaned in close, feeling Prompto’s breath against his lips. After a moment, Ignis placed a soft kiss to the side of Prompto’s mouth, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He still felt absolutely shattered from the fragments of thoughts and truths and resignations of the past day, and all his rational thought seemed to be spilling from the cracks. 

“C’mon. We gotta go. There’ll be a Red Giant before we know it,” Gladio said, his voice rough but not unkind. 

“Yes…” Ignis agreed, stroking Prompto’s cheek. “Darling, are you awake?”

After a moment, Prompto stirred, but not enough to shake him into consciousness. Gladio knelt down, placing his hand on Ignis’ shoulder, moving him back just enough to hoist Prompto into his arms. 

“C’mon, let’s hurry."

 

The radio was playing softly, the station from Lestallum with all the old records. Prompto kept his eyes shut. Fatigue smothered him, though he could feel Ignis holding him. The staccato sound of the motor and the peculiar scent of irises and leather informed him he was in Iris’ truck, though it seemed that Gladio was the one driving. He wondered for a moment if perhaps he died and went to some kind of heaven. Maybe Noct would be there, and the sunny days would last forever. It seemed foolish to think about, but Prompto lamented the loss of his makeshift engagement ring. 

Ignis’ hand rubbed his upper arm a few times, and leaned in close, pressing his lips to Prompto’s forehead. 

“Ig…” Prompto murmured, his jaw stiff, but no longer crackling with pain. 

“Darling, are you awake?” Ignis’ voice was quiet, but close enough to Prompto’s ear that he heard him perfectly. Ignis’ warm breath sent shivers down his spine, and Prompto thought longingly of their warm soft bed, safe and sound. “Can you eat or drink? You must be hungry.”

At that, Prompto noted the hollow pain seizing his abdomen. He nodded, and Ignis quickly supplied him with some flat biscuits and jerky. 

“Eat slowly, and chew thoroughly,” Ignis said. “I have water too, though it’s rather warm.”

Prompto did as he was told, opening his eyes slowly and taking in the dark cab. Gladio glanced at him, and smiled, clapping a hand on his shoulder and shaking him a bit before focusing on the road again. As Prompto chewed, a feeling resurfaced from the past, that horrible fear and anxiety that he was a burden, a fool, an idiot that didn’t fit in and everyone always had to come to his rescue. He had thought in the past few years that he had grown enough to be an actual ally, someone they could look to for support. 

Not this. Not being looked after so tenderly, like he was fragile and weak.

But Prompto was so grateful to them. Grateful they saved him, that he was alive. That he wasn’t a daemon. That maybe he could see a sunny day again. 

The thought made him tremble, and before he knew it, tears were tumbling from his eyes. He hiccupped, and took another bite of biscuit, taking a shuddering breath through the dry crumbs. 

Something touched Prompto’s face, wiping his tears. A cloth that he immediately recognised. He could have laughed through his tears. Of course his ring found it’s way back to Ignis. Like he did. 

“Darling… Prom… are you alright? Are you in pain?”

He was, but Prompto shook his head, forcing himself to take another bite to alleviate the groaning creak of his stomach. “I… I just- thank you guys. Thank you.” Prompto managed, wiping his eyes and nose with his bandana. He sniffed, and turned his face into Ignis’ chest, smiling the tiniest bit at the feeling of his warm skin under the fabric of his shirt. 

He fell asleep, but this time he knew he wouldn’t awaken as a daemon. 


End file.
